Suicide is Painless
by Chaina
Summary: Jaina reflects on her current situation in the war.


Disclaimer: Jaina Solo and the SW galaxy don't belong to me, etc. Just borrowing her to get some of my own frustrations out.

Author's Notes: Title of the fic is taken from the MASH theme song, "Suicide is Painless." I happen to feel that if I would make this into a songfic, that's the song I'd use.

"I can count. I can count the enemy, and I can count the number of friends who have been killed, and I can count the number of battles before we can hope to end the war _and _ the number of shots that are going to be fired in my direction in those battles. I don't have to do anything _wrong _ to be killed. I don't have to make a _mistake_. All I need to do is _be there _long enough, and it'll happen. But it's all right. It's what I've sworn to do."  
Jaina Solo, _Destiny's Way_. 

Every time she sits in the cockpit of her X-wing, she wonders what it will be like. What the moments will feel like when she finally approaches the inevitable. When the days of her clever wits and maneuvers are finally outnumbered. The day she becomes another supernova in the sky.

She doesn't know what it'll feel like. She's never felt pain like that before, even when she was EV'ed. She supposes it'll hurt. She's ready to accept that pain.

She wonders how fast it will be. Will it be fiery or cold? Long or fast? Will it make her feel alive for those last few seconds, in a way that nothing else has?

What'll become of her memories? The specter of her soul? Her body will be vaporized, but the rest? Will she become one with the Force, or wander into some unknown afterlife instead?

She knows she'll be missed. She knows that as much as she knows her own name. The minute she flickers out of the world, she knows it'll be felt. Just like when she felt her Force bond with Jacen severed, she knows he'll feel it. That thought makes her sad. She doesn't want him to have to go through that sort of hurt. Never, not if she can help it.

It briefly crosses her mind that maybe other Jedi will sense her departure too. Will her mother know? Will her Uncle? How long would it take for that word to spread?

It's easy to picture.

She'll lead her squadron up there into the stars, ready for engagement, fearless and brave. Everything will go well at first. They'll successfully wipe out a few Vong ship in accordance with their mission, little casualties to their own side. She'll be proud, they'll get cocky.

And then it'll happen. Before she realizes it, before her wingmate can register it.

The coralskipper will appear out of no where, and issue that fatal blow to her X-wing. Maybe it'll hit her astromech unit first. That would be fitting, wouldn't it? Like when her uncle ran the original Death Star run all those years ago above the orbit of the Yavin moon. She'll be left to her own abilities, relying completely on her own skills and the Force.

Then, the second shot will come. It'll disable her shields, leave her as defenseless as a newborn babe. At this point, she knows that it'll be the end. She won't see her family again, won't laugh with her brother, or kiss Jag goodbye.

Another shot to her left s-foil, another one grazing the cockpit. She'll try to escape, choking the grip of the control, trying to bring her snub to full throttle. But it'll be too late. There will be no escape for the so-called Trickster Goddess this time. After all the enemies vaped, all the pilots lost under her lead, it'll be her turn. She supposes it'll be a fiery death. The engine will catch, and not so slowly, it'll spread.

She can feel the heat. The flames of the fire lapping at her skin. She hits down on the eject button, repeatedly. It doesn't work, no matter how hard she presses. It'll only be moments before her fighter's completely engulfed and she'll be flotsam among the stars. Maybe she'll get a second to say goodbye to her twin. She hopes she does. Her cockpit's smoke filled and she's suffocating fast. Her body burns and her hair singes. This is it.

Fire.

Light.

Explosion.

It's coming, and she braces herself, her eyes wide opened, refusing to face death anything but head on. It stings like nothing ever has before, and the pain seems overwhelming.

And then?

Fin-


End file.
